and confused, Keely hung her head. Tears spilled over her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. What had she done wrong this time? Why didn't Papa love her?
A long shadow fell across her path. Keely looked up and saw twelve-year-old Rhys. "Are you still my stepbrother?" she asked.
"Never mind him," Rhys said, crouching down to be eye level with her. "I am and always will be your brother. May I wear your pretty wreath?"
Keely managed a faint smile, but her bottom lipquivered with the effort. As if she were crowning a king, Keely lifted the wreath and hung it around his neck.
"Rhys," she whispered, "what's a bastard?"
Before he could answer, another voice beside her said, "And I'm definitely your cousin."
Keely looked around and saw twelve-year-old Odo crouched beside her.
"Me too," ten-year-old Hew added.
"You idiot." Odo cuffed the side of his brother's head. "If I'm her cousin, then you're her cousin."
"Well, you didn't need to hit me."
"How else can I knock some sense into that head of yours?"
"But you're rattling my brains," Hew protested.
"You ain't got none," Odo shot back.
Keely giggled, almost happy again. These overgrown cousins of hers acted silly, but she loved them all the more because of it.
"Make me a wreath," Odo begged.
"Me too," Hew added.
"I'm first," Odo said, reaching to cuff his brother. "I'm older."
Ducking his brother's hand, Hew countered, "But I'm handsomer."
Keely looked at her brother. "Do you love me?" she asked, searching his eyes for the truth of the matter.
"Yes, very much." Rhys crushed her against his chest and hugged her tight.
Keely rested her head against his shoulder and saw Madoc frowning at them across the courtyard. The name he'd called her echoed in her mind. Bastard...
"Tears, my beauty?"
Startled, Keely snapped her head up and stared into vivid emerald eyes. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
Richard raised his brows at her impertinence. "I live here. Remember?"
"No, you live—" Keely cringed inside at her outrageously rude behavior.
"Over there," he supplied, gesturing to the adjacent estate.
"His Grace is inside," she said.
"His Grace?" Richard cocked a brow at her. "So formal a title for your own father?"
Discouraging further conversation, Keely turned her head away and feigned disinterest, but her heart pounded frantically within her breast. The earl presented a threat to her cousins, but Keely was worried for her own peace of mind at the moment. His male beauty nearly blinded her. A woman could cheerfully drown in the fathomless pools of green that were his eyes.
"When we met at the tavern," Richard asked, "why didn't you tell me Ludlow was your father?"
"I considered my father's identity no business of yours," Keely replied without bothering to look at him. With luck, he'd go away.
"My lord," Richard said, lifting one booted foot and resting it beside her on the bench.
"What?" Keely snapped her head around and nearly swooned at the incredible sight of his well-muscled leg and thigh perched so disconcertingly close to her.
"You should have said, "'Twas no business of yours, my lord,'"
"You may be a lord," Keely told him, "but you aren't my lord."
If she hadn't been speaking so impertinently to him, Richard would have applauded her spirited wit. After all, few men at the Tudor court dared speak to the queen's favorite in that rude manner.
Instead of becoming angry as he knew she expected, Richard smiled benignly. "I've brought you a welcoming gift," he said. He offered her the single perfect orchid that he held in his hand.
Keely gave him a bewildered smile and reached for it. When their fingers touched, an unfamiliar but wholly exciting sensation raced throughout her body. It was gone in an instant.
Surprised by his kindness, Keely stared at the orchid. No man had ever given her such a wonderful gift as a perfect flower. With the exception of her brother and cousins, no man had ever given her any gift. She'd never even had a suitor.
A long shadow fell across her path. Keely looked up and saw twelve-year-old Rhys. "Are you still my stepbrother?" she asked.
"Never mind him," Rhys said, crouching down to be eye level with her. "I am and always will be your brother. May I wear your pretty wreath?"
Keely managed a faint smile, but her bottom lipquivered with the effort. As if she were crowning a king, Keely lifted the wreath and hung it around his neck.
"Rhys," she whispered, "what's a bastard?"
Before he could answer, another voice beside her said, "And I'm definitely your cousin."
Keely looked around and saw twelve-year-old Odo crouched beside her.
"Me too," ten-year-old Hew added.
"You idiot." Odo cuffed the side of his brother's head. "If I'm her cousin, then you're her cousin."
"Well, you didn't need to hit me."
"How else can I knock some sense into that head of yours?"
"But you're rattling my brains," Hew protested.
"You ain't got none," Odo shot back.
Keely giggled, almost happy again. These overgrown cousins of hers acted silly, but she loved them all the more because of it.
"Make me a wreath," Odo begged.
"Me too," Hew added.
"I'm first," Odo said, reaching to cuff his brother. "I'm older."
Ducking his brother's hand, Hew countered, "But I'm handsomer."
Keely looked at her brother. "Do you love me?" she asked, searching his eyes for the truth of the matter.
"Yes, very much." Rhys crushed her against his chest and hugged her tight.
Keely rested her head against his shoulder and saw Madoc frowning at them across the courtyard. The name he'd called her echoed in her mind. Bastard...
"Tears, my beauty?"
Startled, Keely snapped her head up and stared into vivid emerald eyes. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
Richard raised his brows at her impertinence. "I live here. Remember?"
"No, you live—" Keely cringed inside at her outrageously rude behavior.
"Over there," he supplied, gesturing to the adjacent estate.
"His Grace is inside," she said.
"His Grace?" Richard cocked a brow at her. "So formal a title for your own father?"
Discouraging further conversation, Keely turned her head away and feigned disinterest, but her heart pounded frantically within her breast. The earl presented a threat to her cousins, but Keely was worried for her own peace of mind at the moment. His male beauty nearly blinded her. A woman could cheerfully drown in the fathomless pools of green that were his eyes.
"When we met at the tavern," Richard asked, "why didn't you tell me Ludlow was your father?"
"I considered my father's identity no business of yours," Keely replied without bothering to look at him. With luck, he'd go away.
"My lord," Richard said, lifting one booted foot and resting it beside her on the bench.
"What?" Keely snapped her head around and nearly swooned at the incredible sight of his well-muscled leg and thigh perched so disconcertingly close to her.
"You should have said, "'Twas no business of yours, my lord,'"
"You may be a lord," Keely told him, "but you aren't my lord."
If she hadn't been speaking so impertinently to him, Richard would have applauded her spirited wit. After all, few men at the Tudor court dared speak to the queen's favorite in that rude manner.
Instead of becoming angry as he knew she expected, Richard smiled benignly. "I've brought you a welcoming gift," he said. He offered her the single perfect orchid that he held in his hand.
Keely gave him a bewildered smile and reached for it. When their fingers touched, an unfamiliar but wholly exciting sensation raced throughout her body. It was gone in an instant.
Surprised by his kindness, Keely stared at the orchid. No man had ever given her such a wonderful gift as a perfect flower. With the exception of her brother and cousins, no man had ever given her any gift. She'd never even had a suitor.
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